A Drop of Hope

by Keith Calabrese

  Frustrated, Ernest went to the library entrance. But the library was closed early for inventory, and it would be closed all weekend, too. The soonest he could come back would be Monday, after school.

  It was like what had happened with the art set all over again.

  RYAN AND HIS BIG MOUTH

  “Ow! Seriously, Lizzy!” Ryan said, holding the bridge of his nose, where Lizzy had just socked him. Hard.

  “How do you know?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me, Ryan Hardy,” she seethed. “You heard me. You were at Thompkins Well.”

  The pain in Ryan’s nose disappeared, replaced by a queasy one in his stomach. Because it wasn’t until that moment that he realized, fully, what he had just said to Lizzy. He hadn’t just called her pretty.

  “You are pretty” was what he’d said, as if he were responding to an earlier statement. Which, of course, he was.

  And if that weren’t bad enough, he’d sealed it by saying he didn’t understand why she didn’t think she was pretty, too. He couldn’t believe it. He’d always heard that girls could make a guy stupid, but he never understood how until this moment.

  “Okay,” Ryan said, figuring the truth was his only option. “Yes, I did hear you.”

  “But I never saw you at the park.” She looked at him with growing suspicion. “Were you spying on me?”

  “It’s not like that,” he said quickly.

  “Then what is it like?” she spat.

  It was a perfectly straightforward question. The answer, unfortunately, wouldn’t be.

  “I wasn’t at Thompkins Well,” Ryan said. “I was … in Thompkins Well.”

  Ten minutes later and all Lizzy said was “So. Monday, then?”

  “What?”

  Ryan had told her everything as quickly and succinctly as he could. It had felt good to get it all out, but the more he talked, the more ridiculous the whole thing sounded. When he mentioned how Ernest thought his late grandfather’s attic was magically telling him to give things to people, he’d been sure she was going to pop him in the nose again.

  But she hadn’t. In fact, the stranger the story got, the more Lizzy seemed to loosen up. When Ryan got to the part about Aaron Robinette asking the well to help him find Bigfoot, she’d actually laughed.

  Then she hit him with this business about a private tour.

  “You heard me, Hardy,” she said. “Monday, after school, you’re taking me inside the well.”

  “But I thought you believed me.”

  “Oh, I do. You could never have made up a story that good.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure how to take that.

  “Still,” Lizzy said, “I want to see it for myself.”

  FAMILY SECRETS

  Once he learned about Rollo, Ernest began to notice the way his parents often talked in a kind of conversational shorthand—key words and phrases that for them made perfect sense but that he, Ernest, could not possibly decipher.

  Like tonight, at dinner.

  “I’m set with Bilkes for Tuesday,” his dad said, looking down at his chicken.

  “Oh,” his mom said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Is that fast?”

  “Yes and no,” his dad said. He looked up then. “It’s still early in the process. Doesn’t mean anything, one way or the other.”

  Wow, right in front of him. How many of these coded conversations had he missed? It was like a whole world opening up to him.

  Except it wasn’t. Because Ernest still didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. He didn’t even know who Bilkes was. All he knew for sure was that the discussion sounded serious and that they didn’t want him to know about it. Maybe it had to do with all the late nights his dad was putting in at the factory, and at home.

  “I met Karen Hardy yesterday,” his mom said.

  “Really?”

  “Ernest went over there, to hang out with Ryan.”

  His dad practically did a double take. Ernest didn’t hang out with other kids much. He was liked well enough at school, but he didn’t have what you’d call, well, friends.

  “Doug Hardy’s been working with me a lot on this deal. I’m going to put him in charge of the account if …” His dad trailed off.

  Ernest’s mom turned her attention to him. “Anyway,” she said, “maybe next time you can invite Ryan over here.”

  Or I can just tell myself to get lost and save Ryan the trouble, thought Ernest.

  “Sure, Mom” was what he said, though.

  Ernest was itching to say something about meeting Mrs. Haemmerle, maybe even tell them about the picture of Grandpa Eddie and Rollo. Or maybe he could start a coded conversation of his own, something he could say that they would have to wonder about.

  So after he finished dinner, he said to his parents: “I’ve got some homework to do still. Best I just rollo on up and out of here.”

  His dad gave him nothing.

  “Okay, honey. Clear your plate,” said his mom.

  Well, it still felt good to say Rollo’s name out loud, anyway.

  NO WAY AROUND IT

  On Monday at lunch, Ryan told Ernest to show Lizzy what he’d taken from his grandfather’s attic.

  “I can’t,” Ernest said.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” Ryan said. “Just show her. It’s okay. I told her everything.”

  “Really?” Ernest’s face lit up. “And she bought it?” He looked at Lizzy eagerly. She fluttered her hand in a jury’s-still-out kind of way.

  “That’s why I want you to show her what you took from your grandfather’s attic.”

  “Oh, forget that. It was a box of Colorforms, but I accidentally dropped it in the library’s book-return box.”

  “You did what?” Ryan said.

  “Doesn’t matter. We should really show her the well anyway.”

  “Yeah, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to—”

  But Ernest had already turned to Lizzy. “It’s so cool. You have to crouch through this low, narrow tunnel. That part’s a little spooky, but there’s really nothing to it.”

  Lizzy laughed. “Sounds like fun,” she said.

  “Sure, loads of fun,” Ryan said.

  A FEW WORDS ABOUT HOME FINANCE

  After the last bell, Lizzy followed Ryan and Ernest into the woods behind the school.

  “Now, they say there’s a devil-worshipping cult that practices in these woods,” Ernest said with an air of authority. “But don’t worry, it’s just a story the high school kids tell to scare people away so they can misbehave in peace.”

  Lizzy liked Ernest. He was very sweet and funny, too. The kid said misbehave, for Pete’s sake.

  Ryan went into the cave first. Lizzy followed him, and then Ernest. When they got to the bottom of the well, Ernest tapped her on the shoulder. “Isn’t it amazing?” he said.

  Amazing wasn’t the word she would have used, but it was pretty cool.

  “Okay,” Ryan said abruptly. “You’ve seen the well. Let’s go.”

  “What?” Ernest protested. “We can’t go now. We have to wait and see if anyone comes to make a wish.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Sure we do,” Ernest said. “It’s the only way to really prove to Lizzy that you heard her from down here, that you’re telling the truth. Right?” He looked at Lizzy for that last part, giving her a mischievous smile.

  They didn’t have to wait long. About ten minutes later, they heard footsteps approaching.

  “Hey, Mr. Well,” a boy’s voice began. “It’s me, Aaron Robinette, again. I figured the last time I might not have made my wish very clearly. I wasn’t asking for Bigfoot, like to have one of my own. Because, like, that would be stupid. It’s just that my friend Jamie, he keeps making fun of me because I believe in Bigfoot. Right? Anyway, he’s kind of a jerk about it, and I’d just like to shut him up, you know? Just a little proof would be nice, to shut up Jamie. My friend. The jerk. Anyway, thanks.”

  They heard Aaron shuffle a
way.

  Ryan shook his head in wonder. “Mr. Well?”

  Lizzy countered, “I thought it was kind of sweet—”

  “Hold on,” Ernest interrupted. “I think I hear someone else.”

  “Um. Hello?” It was a boy again, but a different one this time. Lizzy didn’t recognize the voice, but it sounded older. In high school, maybe.

  Ernest gave her an eager thumbs-up while Ryan set his jaw and looked away.

  The boy at the well threw down a quarter. Then he started talking about his dad, who worked construction. He’d been having back problems. Their insurance wouldn’t cover a specialist and money was tight, so his dad had to cut back on the jobs he could take. Roofing paid the best but was hardest on his body, so he had to start taking drywall jobs.

  The boy’s mom worked as a bank teller, and her hours were getting squeezed. They were still getting by, but just barely. As Lizzy listened, she was struck by the way the boy never complained as he told his story. He worked afternoons as a stock boy for a local supermarket, and on the weekends he baled hay for a farmer out in the country. In fact, he was at the well because he was wishing for extra work.

  Because on top of everything else, the boy’s grandmother, his mom’s mom, was sick in Boston and probably wasn’t going to make it much longer. His folks were trying to fly his mom out to visit, to say goodbye, really, but the flights were so expensive. The boy hoped, if he could just earn a little more here and there, they could fly his mom to Boston without getting behind on the house.

  “What did he mean?” Ernest asked after the boy had left. “That part about getting behind on the house.”

  “He was talking about their mortgage,” Ryan said. “Do you know what a mortgage is?”

  Ernest nodded. “It’s a loan families get so they can buy a house. The bank gives you the money to buy the house and you pay them back a little each month until you’ve paid it all back.”

  Ryan said, “Getting behind is when you start missing your monthly payments. Miss a few of them and the bank takes your house away.”

  “They can do that?”

  “Of course they can,” Ryan said. “Until you pay them back, they own the house.”

  “So,” Lizzy cut in. “Do you guys think you can help him?”

  “No, we can’t help him,” Ryan said flatly. “I don’t know what happened with Winston and Tommy, but it wasn’t because of some magic attic. This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here anymore. We shouldn’t be hearing this stuff.”

  “But maybe we can—” Ernest began.

  “Stop it. We can’t.” Ryan straightened and brushed the dirt off his jeans. “Don’t you get it? That kid just wanted to get his problems off his chest for a minute. That’s all. He doesn’t want to whine to his parents or his friends, but it’s a lot to keep inside, so he talks to a big hole in the ground.”

  With that, Ryan left the well. Lizzy and Ernest followed. No one talked as they walked out of the woods. Ryan’s words had clearly stung Ernest, but it was hard to keep that kid down for long.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Ernest said as he tugged lightly on Lizzy’s arm. “He’s coming around.”

  “Ernest,” Lizzy said. “Do you really believe …” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “All of this?”

  “Of course,” he said with the kind of unflinching faith usually reserved for the delusional. “Don’t you?”

  Lizzy looked at him. His eyes were big and hopeful.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Ernest clapped his hands. “That’s good enough for me!”

  CONVERGENCE INSUFFICIENCY

  Jenny Davenport loved books. But after four hours of sorting and stacking and stamping, even she could get kind of sick of them.

  Jenny was a junior at the high school. Three days a week she volunteered at the library, usually only for a couple of hours here and there. But this week Mrs. Conway, the librarian, was doing inventory. So she really needed Jenny to help with the day-to-day stuff, like checking out books at the counter, sending overdue emails, and collecting the returned books from the curbside depository.

  And to top it all off, Mrs. Conway’s son, Jason, was constantly in the way. He really couldn’t help it: He was five, hopped up on sugar, and bored—an unstoppable triple-threat of annoying. At least the library was closed now, so she didn’t have to worry about him running around and bothering the patrons.

  Jenny just wanted to finish her shift, get home, grab some dinner, and start her homework. She had a paper due for her biology class. Every week, Mr. Broderick made them write a short paper on some random, science-related topic. This week, they had to write about an obscure physical ailment. She was not looking forward to it.

  “Whatcha doing?” Jason was suddenly at her side behind the counter, leaning into her personal space and breathing his hot Doritos breath into her neck.

  Jenny sighed. “You know what I’m doing, Jason.” The boy had moved on, though, and was now digging through the returned books Jenny had just brought in from the curbside depository.

  “Hey, what’s this?” He started tugging at something in the middle of the stack.

  “Jason, stop it. The books are going to—”

  Too late. The stack toppled off the counter and onto the floor.

  “Great. Just great.” Jenny wheeled around the counter toward the fallen books. Jason, agitated, bent down to start picking them up. “Just leave them. I’ll do it,” Jenny snapped.

  Jason stepped back, trembling. She knew it was an accident. The kid didn’t mean it. She looked to the floor and saw what he’d been grabbing at: an old box of Colorforms. She picked it up. “Is this what you were looking at?”

  Jason nodded warily. Jenny examined the box. It was really old, but in good shape. What would something like this be doing in the book depository? Sometimes people used the depository to donate old books, but this was a toy. It was strange, very strange, but it was also exactly what Jenny needed right now.

  She held the box up to Jason. “Think you can take this to the table and play quietly for a while?”

  Jason nodded, brightening instantly. She handed him the box and he ran off.

  True to his word, the boy was playing quietly at a nearby table by the time Jenny finished picking up the last of the fallen books. It was facedown on the floor and when she turned it over, an open page caught her eye.

  Convergence Insufficiency, it said at the top.

  She checked the cover. It was some kind of medical book. She went back and skimmed the page. Apparently, convergence insufficiency was a vision problem where your eyes wouldn’t work together whenever you tried to read. It was like one eye was looking at one part of the page while the other eye was looking at another part.

  A voracious reader herself, Jenny couldn’t imagine having a physical ailment like that. An obscure physical ailment …

  Jenny logged the book into the computer and then checked it out herself and put it in her backpack. She had a topic for her science paper at least.

  COUNCIL GETS REAL

  It rained most of that week, and though that meant Ryan couldn’t play football at lunch, at least the rain kept Ernest from dragging him to that stupid well.

  Unfortunately, Ernest used the downtime to work on Lizzy, winning her over to his side of things. Ryan wasn’t sure Lizzy really bought it, at least not a hundred percent, but all you had to do was see Winston Patil and Tommy Bricks sitting at the picnic tables together, or staring into the courtyard and muttering to each other, and even a cynic like Ryan had to wonder. At least a little.

  In fact, just this morning Ryan had seen Winston and Tommy talking to Mr. Earle after class. Ryan’s first guess was that the honeymoon was over and Winston was telling on Tommy, but it was clear from the way they huddled near one another that they had come to the teacher together. And whatever they were saying had Mr. Earle interested.

  Later in the day, Mr. Earle opened up Council by asking the class if
anyone had something they wanted to talk about. Paige Barnett immediately raised her hand.

  Everyone, even Mr. Earle, looked surprised.

  “Okay, Paige,” he said. “Please, what’s on your mind?”

  Paige stood up. She looked excited and a little nervous. “My younger brother, Seth, he’s in first grade. And he’s been having a really, really tough time learning to read. It’s been hard on everyone, hard on my parents, hard on Seth for sure.”

  “And hard on you,” Mr. Earle said quietly.

  Paige nodded. “But then, Seth’s teacher, she found out about this condition where your eyes don’t work together when you try to read. So we had Seth’s vision tested and now we know what the problem is. And the best part is that it’s completely fixable. Seth has to wear these funny glasses to read now, and it’s going to take a long time to get right, but he’s reading. He’s really reading.”

  With unflinching resolve, Ryan looked straight ahead. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ernest bouncing in his chair like a panicked toddler about to lose a battle with his bladder. Ryan finally gave in and glanced over at Ernest, who cupped the sides of his face with his hands while mouthing to Ryan slowly and deliberately: “SHE. WAS. AT. THE. WELL.”

  Ryan gave him a sharp look back that loosely translated to I know, idiot. I was there with you.

  “Wow,” said Mr. Earle, amazed. “How did this teacher figure out Seth’s problem?”

  “That’s the neatest part, Mr. Earle,” Paige said. “Seth’s teacher’s boyfriend is a high school science teacher, and one of his students wrote a paper about it.”

  Ryan tried to look on the bright side. This time, at least, it was more of a stretch to think they had anything to do with Paige’s wish coming true. Unlike with Winston and Tommy, there was no magic art set that made it happen. No smoking gun, as the expression goes. A high school girl’s homework had helped Paige’s brother learn to read, not some stupid box of Colorforms.

  “That’s a wonderful coincidence,” Mr. Earle said.

  “I know, right,” Paige said. “It’s actually a funny story. My parents met with the science teacher and his student, to thank them, you know. And the girl who wrote the paper, she said she only even discovered the eye condition because it was in this medical textbook the librarian’s son had knocked over trying to get at this box of … I forget what she called them. They’re like stickers but they’re plastic and you can reuse them?”